Reflections
by Charli1
Summary: Relena anda an old friend looks back at her life after disaster strikes. Companion piece/sequel to "Heero's Dream"


A.C. 203

The first thing I am aware of is pain. Pain and darkness. I can handle the darkness. It's the pain that unnerves me.

I catalogue the different pains one by one. My body is a network of aches and bruises from various parts-my head, chest, limbs. They all hurt about the same. I can't tell where one pain ends and the other begins. My throat hurts internally from the scream I must have uttered as the world crashed in on me. But the worst pain of all is the knowledge that I am alone and no one knows I'm here.

I can remember the day I told those around me that I wanted a vacation, a chance to get away from it all for a while. They had objected mildly at first, then vehemently when I told them I wanted to be alone. I had to have my freedom-something that I haven't had in years. In the past few months I had begun to feel stifled, wrapped in a cocoon that tightened a bit day by day. After a few weeks, I had finally prevailed and had been granted permission. I can remember my relief at the knowledge that, except for a few concessions, I was finally independent.

I had been able to lease the modest house in a small city in Europe and make reservations on a commercial shuttle to take me to my destination. I had been adamant that no one listened in on me as I did so. Maybe I shouldn't have been so determined…

I remember the when I woke up late in the morning and realized that there was nothing pressing for my attention. It had been a relief to wake up slowly, stretching in the large bed. I had dressed casually in blue cotton sleeveless dress and gone down to the central square and had brunch. I could see the ocean from where I sat, eating a muffin. Even the food tasted better, being free. I had two weeks to myself and I intended to live them to the fullest. I would make this trip something to remember in the long, dark hours of the night when I was alone. I wanted to do something with my life that was personal, even if I had no one to share it with. But I had shouldered that knowledge long ago, along with the understanding that my life would be like this until I died.

I remember having the feeling of being watched and had looked around, wondering if my security personnel had somehow tracked me down, but I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Couples walked hand in hand and families enjoyed the warm spring air. Dismissing it out of hand due to nerves, I had continued on with my morning, planning nothing, allowing myself to go to places on a whim.

I reach up to touch my head and am slightly relieved to find that I can move at least part of my body. I can wiggle my toes and feet, so there's hope. It's so dark that I can't tell if there is simply no light source or if I simply haven't opened my eyes. I blink experimentally and come to the conclusion that it really is that dark. I begin to wonder that, if there is no light coming from any cracks, is any air coming in to where I lie? A shudder runs through my frame as I begin to succumb to a fit of laughter. 

I would laugh out loud, but my chest hurts too much. It would be sad to me to die this way. I, who have been through one war, been involved in an uprising, and faced down weapons of mass destruction, would be die from suffocation. I can see the headlines now: RELENA DARLIAN'S BODY FOUND IN WRECKAGE OF BUILDING. I think that some of my staff would commit suicide just to come after me and kill me again, just for going off on my own in the first place.

An errant thought crosses my mind and I contemplate it. What if there is only so much living that the Powers That Be grant each human? Had I exceeded it? I was still young, but I felt so ancient at times. I'm only twenty-three years old. Was this to be my fate? 

I can feel a wet stickiness on the hand I had put to my face. Blood. It can't be anything else-I'd had enough encounters with the substance to know what it feels like; smells like. Nothing else in the world compares to it. I know that head wounds are usually worse than they look, but they're dangerous after a while without treatment. Maybe I'll bleed to death before I asphyxiate. How would that look like on the autopsy report? 

Would anyone find me?

Perhaps my wanting to have freedom would have a final, lasting memory after all. For all of times that my life has been in danger, this last act would be the one to do me in.

I close my eyes, letting the darkness fall.

***

I open my eyes. Rather, make that I open my left eye. I can't seem to open my right and I know that the blood that I'd felt earlier is probably gumming it shut. A shaft of light has entered my domain. I don't know whether I am relieved or not to see it. I smile bitterly at the thought. I should be glad to see it. It means that perhaps people are digging through the rubble for survivors. I suddenly don't want to be saved. This is how it should be. I don't want to be special. I want to be just a normal person, though how I can be one, when all my life I've been anything but normal? I feel a wave of anger at those that had molded and formed my life. What would I have been, if not for them? A musician or an architect perhaps? Or would I have found my way to where I am now, bound by fate? 

A small part of me realizes that I'm starting to ramble about. But I find that I don't care. It's nice to be able to chatter on, even if it's in my own mind. I remember the last time I was trapped in a building with it crumbling down around me. But that had been a fortified structure-the remnants of this house were anything but. And the situation was different then-this time there was no one to come for me. Am I just a magnet for disaster?

My thoughts come to a halt as I hear something above me. I turn my face towards where my senses tell me is up. Feeling dust filter down onto my skin makes me smile. At least I haven't lost it completely. Another stream of light pierces the darkness and I can start to see things more clearly.

I'm trapped in what seems to be the remnants of the basement. What remains of the first level floor lies in piles around where I lay. There is a three-foot clearance above me, the fallen floor supported at an angle by only one beam. I don't remember being in the basement. I must have fallen through when the floor gave way beneath me. No wonder why I'm so sore. It was a deep basement. I wonder if anything is broken, and how would I tell if there were. I've heard that being in shock does wonders for your system. Perhaps that's why I started rambling.

I begin to wonder if I had just imagined hearing something above me, as I can't hear anything now. Was what I heard just the shifting of the house above me? I can feel myself trembling despite my efforts to keep still. I'm not in such a hurry to die anymore. 

But if I died, who would mourn?

There would be a requisite grieving period, and then people would go on with their lives. I had no one special who would feel emptiness in the spot where I had been. My father, the one who raised me and whom I considered my father more than what a DNA test would revel, was dead already, and those who could have replaced that part of my life were as distant as the stars. My brother had a new life now, complete with wife and child, a small girl named after me. Poor kid. But I know their reaction will be the same as everyone else's. Mourn a bit more fiercely than others, then go on. That's life. 

Would _he_ feel anything at hearing the news? Or was he so disconnected from his emotions that he wouldn't feel a thing? I had doubts about that, but I would never know now.

I recall the dim memory of a dream I had once, seven years ago when Mariemeia had kidnapped me. I had been conversing with him in the dream and somehow I knew, upon waking, that he was coming to rescue me. I catch the fleeting thought and push it to the back of my mind. That was in the past and anything that could have happened was long since dust. There's no one to come and save me. I'm on my own this time.

There! Another shaft of light in my prison! Someone is up there! I try to move and find that I cannot. I look down and see what I had refused to acknowledge before.

A wooden beam is lying across my body. Not crushing it, but another inch in either direction and I would never had been able to have this introspective talk with myself. No wonder my chest hurts so much. Do I have cracked or broken ribs? I notice for the first time that my breathing is quick, shallow. Wow, shock _does_ do wonders for the system! But I also don't want to be alone down here, when there might be salvation right above me. I open my mouth, trying to shout for aid.

"Help!" I sound so weak, like a child. God, that hurt! But I try again. I have no choice. I don't want to die, not now.

"I'm down here!" I think I sound louder this time. But there is still no response. I begin to be afraid, a first, considering my situation. One would have thought that fear would have been my top priority. 

A large piece of stone and dust plummets down into my prison. I let out an involuntary cry as I try to shield my face with the one arm that I can move. I can't believe that anyone from a rescue team would be so careless. Can't they hear me down here?

"Help me!" There, that should get their attention. I look upwards again. Searching for anything tangible to latch onto. I see a shadow above me, and then it disappears. I blink, wondering if I'm starting to hallucinate. If so, I was well on my way to having more than just a two-week vacation. Mental institute, here I come…

There is a sound to my right and I glance over to see what could it be. There is something in the shadows, something dangerous. I can feel eyes on me, like this morning, and I feel even more helpless. I want it to be something inconsequential, like a rat or some other small creature, but somehow I know that it's a predator. Why else would it be down here? I wonder if I'm about to become an entrée. I can't defend myself from this thing that would devour me. I can hear it moving stealthily towards me and I hear myself whimper involuntarily. I have never whimpered in my life, but this is from an instinctual fear that has nothing to do with rational thinking. I can see a red haze at the corners of my vision, hear my blood pound in my ears. I can't look away.

It moves closer and my world goes dark.

****

I hear voices above me, speaking gibberish. I can't make heads or tails of what they are saying at first. It's much like white noise. But as I listen, it starts to make sense to me, in a way. I hear the wail of sirens around me and realize that I'm lying flat. The weight of the wooden beam is gone, though my chest still hurts. Someone is talking-I can understand their words, but the context is confusing to me.

"Is she your wife?" I hear a woman ask the question. I try to open my eyes, but something hinders my progress.

"Yes, she is," a man's voice replies and I can feel my right hand being picked up, placed in a warm grasp. The hand is large and callused in places, unlike the hand of the many dignitaries I've met. This is the hand of someone who knows what it is to truly live. Unlike me.

"What is her name?" Yes, what is my name? I wait to hear what this stranger, who thinks I'm his wife, says. 

"Her name is Celena." That's a good one, stranger. Close enough to my own, yet different enough not to raise suspicion. Didn't that woman hear the slight pause in his voice before he gave me that name? Or was her mind on so many different things that she didn't care at the moment? I hear her move away. But I can feel the presence of the man next to me and wonder at it as he gently places my hand next to my body. He moves slightly and I feel a slight breeze pass over me. I turn my head in the direction of the motion, suddenly not wanting him to leave me, stranger though he was. Warmth returns and I feel my hand being picked up again.

"Who are you?" My voice comes out in a raspy whisper-I sound as if I haven't had a drink of water in days. But I have to ask the question. I need to know who this man is and why he's claiming me as his wife. Though the tern does give me a sense of belonging. What harm would it do to pretend to be his wife for a short while?

"A friend. I knew that you wanted your privacy, so I decided to cover for you. Do you want me to contact someone for you?" The man's voice is low, as if he, too, has been through hell. Or maybe he just doesn't want to be overheard. I can understand the feeling. 

I shake my head, though the movement makes my head throb in pain. Not exactly the smartest thing to do at the moment. "No thank you. That would just ruin this lovely charade we're in." I feel myself smile. "That was a nice touch, saying I was your wife. Sure your own won't mind?"

"It's no problem, since I'm not married myself."

Oh, that was tactful. "What is your name? So that I can call you something beside 'hey you'."

He chuckles slightly at that and I feel a flush working its way up my face, something that hasn't happened in years. "Why don't you give me one, as I did with you?"

I open my mouth to give him a name and choke on the one that comes to my lips. How can I even think of him, at a time like this? I know I thought of him briefly while trapped, but right now he should be the furthest thing from my mind. Yet I had almost given this stranger his name-he, who I had not thought of in years.

"Yes? You were going to say something?"

I shake my head. "I was going to give you a name that would probably not even describe you at all." I think for a moment, then another name comes to mind. It, too, brings him to mind, but I had never called him by anything other than by what I had known him. This name has no meaning for me.

"May I call you Aiden?" He doesn't respond and I wonder if I've offended him somehow. Can one be offended by a pretend name?

"That's fine. Which name did you choose initially?" I cannot respond and turn away. Not that I can see anything anyway, but the motion helps. 

"Nothing special. Just a name that belonged to someone I once knew, long ago," I reply. I would not let myself think of him anymore. That path only led to heartache and pain, as I knew only too well. 

"Well, let's not think about that anymore."

I turn back to him, forcing a smile to my lips. "You called yourself a friend, and now that I think about it, your voice does sound familiar. Have we ever met?"

"A long time ago. I recognized you down at the café this morning. I had thought to visit you when the earthquake hit. When I saw them bring you in, I knew that most likely you wanted to be incognito and acted like the distraught husband. They swallowed my story and here we are."

"Where have we met?" I wanted to know more about this cohort that would cover for me so adeptly. 

"At the boarding school a few years ago. I had a few classes with you, but we were never close."

I feel a pang of loss at his words. I had really been a spoiled brat back then, before the war. Before everything turned my world upside down and propelled me into the spot I was in now.

"If it means anything now, I'm sorry I didn't treat you better. I wish I could see your face right now and put a name to the memory of this time. Why can't I see, anyway?" I ask at last, frustrated by not being able to see. I want to tear off the thing that is over my eyes, stealing my sight.

"You have a nasty wound over your right eye. The doctors thought it best that you don't strain yourself, what with the concussion and all. It'll be off in a few days."

How could I have forgotten my head wound? I grip his hand, my only link to him and the rest of the world. "Will you stay with me until that day? I want to thank you formally, when I can see again. Please?"

There's silence next to me and I am afraid again. Would I lose even this tenuous friendship, just when it had started? I curse myself, knowing his answer before he says it. Years of the political arena have taught me to look for the truth behind the words.

"I'll stay until that day. But don't be surprised when you see who I really am."

The relief I feel is akin to waking up to a new day, fresh with possibility. "Thank you, " I reply. He hadn't lied, either. I could hear it in his voice. I feel his hand smooth my hair from my face and am comforted by the gesture. It is reminiscent of what I had seen couples do to each other and I find that the act soothes me. I close my eyes and let sleep come over me. I've had a busy day.

I hear one last thing before slumber steals me away. His voice whispering, "_Sleep well, Relena."_

***

I can feel the sun warm on my face, the breeze tugging at my hair. The smell of green and growing things is all around me. I smile, reaching back for the hand resting behind my shoulder as Aiden pushes me out in a wheelchair into the small park behind the hospital. 

"Thank you for bringing me here. It's wonderful, after so much time in the room." It was good to be out, even if I couldn't walk on my own yet. There was the head injury to worry about, along with the other contusions I had received during my graceful plummet through the floor. And I had been right about my ribs-three cracked on either side. So I had to content myself with a smile, since I couldn't laugh yet. Luckily, it seemed that Aiden wasn't one for telling jokes.

We come to a stop and he moves around to help lift me to a small bench. I smile up at him, sure that I'm wearing the biggest grin in history as I feel him sit down next to me.

"What shall we talk about today?" I ask him, since it's his turn. We had started a game on the second day of our friendship, much like Twenty Questions, where each day one of us would choose a different topic to discuss. I had learned more about "Aiden", which suited me just fine. I wanted to know more about my unexpected ally. 

He had been born on one of the colonies and had four other brothers. When he had been in his teens, his father had gotten a job planet-side and had sent the family ahead to prepare their new residence. That's when he had been placed in the boarding school that I had attended. I couldn't exactly remember the situation; but then again, there were so many coming and going that I wasn't surprised I didn't recall him very well. He also had a keen, intellectual mind, with many opinions that made me want to revise some of my own. He had a refreshing view on some of the changes that I had help bring about in the past few years. Maybe I should make him part of the cabinet

"Tell me about the person whose name you were about to give me." I feel myself freeze in place, my heart racing suddenly. That's the last subject I want to discuss, and I tell him so.

"If you talk about him, perhaps you can finally release his memory. I've heard that it helps to talk about the things that are painful," he replies calmly. I wonder for a moment if he's had to do something like this before.

I lick my lips, suddenly uncertain. I summon courage, which seems to be in short supply right now. "Okay, but only if you answer one question."

"Deal."

"What do you look like? That way, I can finally imagine in my mind what the person I'm talking to looks like. To have a face to go with the voice." I did it! But my chest is tight. There's a short stretch of silence next to me and I begin to fear that I've touched on painful ground with him. I wouldn't have cared if he were scarred or ugly. I just want to know.

"That's fine. I have dark hair and blue eyes. I can't rightly say if I'm considered attractive or not. Never really thought about it much."

"Oh," I reply, feeling like a fool. But I have to try something. "Can I see you?" 

"That's two questions," he says mildly and I can hear the amusement threaded in his voice. Then, "If you want."

I reach up, careful not to poke an eye out. His skin is smooth, with only a hint of stubble in those hard to shave places that are common on every man. Level eyebrows-he doesn't tolerate fools. Deep-set eyes underneath-he probably measures everything carefully before making a decision. The descriptions come to my mind easily as I explore his face. I brush across his mouth, feeling it curve slightly in a smile. I feel a blush staining my cheeks. If I'd any clue that what I had asked to do would be so intimate, I would never have contemplated it. I draw back my fingers, bowing my head.

"Thank you." Is it my imagination, or does my voice really sound that high-pitched? I really hope that it's my mind playing tricks on me.

"You're welcome." How can he sound so calm? I put on my best politician's face and look back up at him.

"First question."

The bench creaks slightly as he leans forward. Funny how my other senses have heightened with my sight gone. I have renewed respect for those who have to live like this for their entire lives.

"What was his name?"

"Good question." It is a good start. But I've learned that he's not one to waste words. I can respect that. Wish sometimes that politicians were more like him. "I really never knew his true name. Just called him what everyone else did. I was introduced to him as Heero." 

There, that wasn't so bad. I actually said his name out loud, something I haven't been able to do before.

"How did you meet him?" That was going to be tricky. I can't say the truth-he wouldn't believe me. I can hear it now: '_When he washed up on the shore after ditching his mobile suit.'_ Aiden would take me straight back to the hospital and commit me to the psychiatric ward, no questions asked. So I improvise.

"At a school function. I asked him to dance with me." That wasn't too far from the truth. Of course, the dance occurred a month or so after he had appeared at the school. 

After telling me that he was going to kill me.

After holding a gun to my face and almost pulling the trigger.

"Were you very close? Did you ever date?" 

I smile. "That's two questions," I reply, sending back his earlier remark. "No, we didn't. He was a very private person. Kept to himself for the most part."

"Then why do you think about him still?"

I shake my head. "I usually don't. I think that perhaps my head injury made me crazy for a little while. I haven't thought about him for years." That was true. I could never find any trace of him after the Mariemaia crisis. He had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared in my life the year before.

"What happened?"

"The war happened. He was a revolutionary at heart and joined the colonies in their quest for freedom." That was close enough to the truth, though still vague enough, to satisfy me. As far as I knew, the other pilots led quiet, respectful lives now, their names wiped from the history as thoroughly as military mobile suits had been taken out of our society. I had done that myself, giving them one last gift, though they would never know I did it. Heero was out there somewhere, safe from the past. I turn my head involuntarily to the sky, seeing in my mind the colonies out there, beyond the clouds. I hope that he has somehow found peace and happiness.

"You're smiling sadly." His comment takes me by surprise. I hadn't realized that I had done the one thing I hadn't done for at least five years. I turn back to him.

"Sorry about that. I didn't realize that he still had such a hold on me. Maybe you're right about this, and talking about him will finally exorcise him from my system." I say the last as brightly as I can, but I can feel tears well up in my eyes. I'm glad that there's gauze over them, so that he won't see them. 

"Why _does_ he have such a hold on you?"

I wonder how he can sound so matter-of-fact about this topic. Can't he see how badly I'm affected? So I tell the first bare truth in this conversation.

"I thought I was in love with him, if you can believe it. He intrigued me in a way that I didn't realize was close to becoming an obsession with me. He ran the other way and, like a fool, I followed." And nearly died several times. And wound up losing him in the end.

"You said he was a revolutionary. Did he participate in the war?" Is that a hint of melancholy in his voice? I remember him saying that he had been born on the colonies. Had he been somehow involved in the fight, like myself?

"Yes, he did. He was a mobile suit pilot and he fought for what he believed in. It was for a different view than my own, but in the end we were fighting for the same thing." That was no secret. While the pasts of the five Gundam pilots was buried, what they fought for and my struggle were forever intertwined. 

"So he was a soldier in the war." It was a statement, not a question. I nod in response, not trusting my voice. Renewed tears block my throat and I can start to feel them to fall down my cheeks. So much for the absorbent properties of gauze.

I feel his fingers catch my tears and am reminded of Heero's first touch. That brief surprised look in his eyes that someone would cry over his actions. I wonder what Aiden's face looks like right now. 

"He's not worth crying over anymore, Relena," he says gently. I nod, choking back my tears. He's right. But they have served their purpose and act as a balm on my soul. The memories are no longer as painful as they had once been. 

"What happened to him?"

A bitter smile crosses my lips. "He vanished. After a while, others convinced me to stop trying to look for him. I never even got the chance to thank him for saving my life." No, he had just passed out in my arms and I held him close, whispering his name as I stroked his soft, dark hair. The next day, he was gone as soon as he awoke. I never saw him again. All I had to cherish in my heart was the memory of how he had looked so peaceful there, head against my breast, his eyes closed. I had never seen him look that way, face relaxed from his habitual scowl. Like a small boy who only needed someone to love him.

"Did you ever consider the fact that he needed to find his own peace after the war? Or that, as a soldier, he considered his life cheap?" I incline my head up at him, taking into account his words. I had never thought about it that way.

"Are you saying that he had to come to terms with what had happened on his own?" The realization is humbling. I wish that things had been different. I could have helped, perhaps. 

"What I'm saying is that this guy-Heero- probably had to get away from it all for a while. If he was as dedicated as you paint him, he no doubt had to be on his own for a time. It was most likely nothing personal against you."

I turn away, a thousand thoughts swirling around in my head. Aiden's words have brought to light things that I needed to contemplate-alone. I hold up a hand, bringing a close our discussion. He takes it in his own, squeezing my fingers gently.

"I apologize for this. You were right-it was a bad topic. I just wanted to know more about this other person whose name you still cling to."

I shake my head. "It's okay. It was you who were correct in bringing it up. I have been denying the truth for too long. But I need time to think about what you said. Can you please take me back to my room?"

He helped me back to the chair and we went back in silence to my appointed place. After assisting me to the bed, I feel his fingers stroke my cheek.

"Do you have anything to remember him by?" 

The question takes me aback. Then I smile wistfully, remembering the one other thing I still cherish. "Yes, I do. A small, brown teddy bear with a big red ribbon around his neck. It was a belated birthday gift. I still have it, if you can believe it." It was in a place of importance on my bed at home, nestled against my pillows. His fur was discolored slightly in places by tears I had once shed, long ago. Now he was a comfort to me, a shield in those long nights when the world closed in on me.

"I see. Take care, Celena. I'll be back tomorrow." I say goodbye, knowing that others might be listening, secure in the knowledge that he only called me by my real name when we were alone. I hear him leave and turn to where my senses tell me the window is. I have a lot to think about.

******

The bandages come off today. I can barely keep myself from laughing out loud. I can finally see who Aiden is and see if I remember him from our days at school. I also finally have the chance to leave this place. My two weeks are up tomorrow and I'm tempted to call my staff and tell them that I wasn't coming back for another two weeks beyond that. I wanted to have my vacation, and being a patient in a hospital wasn't what I'd call a holiday by any stretch of the imagination. 

I feel the cold sharpness of the scissors as they pull at the gauze surrounding my head, trying not to flinch. I could face down a mobile suit's shield coming dead at me and not blink, but this small tool makes me want to cringe. Where's my courage now?

"Ma'am, keep your eyes closed for a moment while I take off the pads." I nod, wanting this over as soon as possible. There is brightness against my eyelids and I turn towards the source, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. I know that most likely that they have the curtains drawn close, but I can still feel its light near me.

"Now, open them slowly." I obey, cracking them slightly. I can make out the figure of the doctor before me. He smiles and I smile back as I open my eyes fully. I was right-the curtains are closed, but my assumption about the light source wasn't. I feel my smile grow wider as I search for Aiden. I wanted to see him, see his reaction as I looked at him. But all I saw was the doctor and his assistant. 

"Where's my-," I ask, catching myself before saying 'friend', "husband?"

The doctor smiled. "He'll be here in a moment. Wanted to get something from the gift shop, I believe. Do you want someone to stay with you until he returns?" I shake my head, not letting my disappointment show, the smile fading. The two gather up their handiwork and depart, leaving me alone.

Alone. Funny how weeks, even days, ago I wanted that. Now, I just wanted to spend some time with a man I barely knew. I wanted to see his face more than anything else at the moment.

I grimace, catching that last thought. I sound like I did eight years ago when I first met Heero. And look how that turned out.

The door opens and I'm smiling again as I turn to it, sure it's Aiden. The figure of a man walks in, turned away to shut the door behind him. At first all I see is dark brown hair, a periwinkle-blue shirt stretched across broad shoulders and navy slacks. Something about him is familiar, though I can't remember exactly where I've seen him before.

"Good morning, Relena. I see the bandages came off without incident." I feel my heart stop at his words as he turns in my direction. I don't know what to do and can only stare up at him. I feel my smile fade as I look up into the face of the one whom had haunted my thoughts for the past few days.

It's Heero standing there. He hasn't changed much. Just grown taller, broader, fulfilling the promise I had seen back when we were both teenagers. Even his voice is as I remember it-flat and emotionless. I feel as if the world has halted for a moment. Where's Aiden? Did Heero do something to him? He walks closer and I look into his eyes, searching, waiting. Why is he here?

"Surely you recognize me-I have been your husband for the past week and a half."

I shake my head, not believing this is happening, but his voice had changed slightly. It was Aiden's voice now. He halts before me and kneels down, meeting my gaze at my level. Then I see him smile, something I have only seen him do once before. The smile even reaches his eyes, bright and shining. He reaches up a hand, touching my cheek.

"Heero." Oh, I sound intelligent. But I can't seem to be able to say anything else. I know that touch anywhere-it belongs to the one I called Aiden. But, it's Heero's touch, too. 

He shakes his head. "Call me Aiden. It fits me. Much better than Heero, wouldn't you say?"

"How? Why?" Wow, I must be in a contest for best one-word statements for the year. I'm glad there isn't any media around me at the moment. I would have just made the news for most inane comments of the century.

"I knew that you were coming here, and decided to stop by and see you," he smiles again as I stare at him in shock. He still has the same intensity to him, but he's changed. He's at peace with himself and that knowledge makes me smile in return. Then I remember my conversation with Aiden, Heero, just days ago and my words jumble together in my head. Had he been trying to tell me, in his own way, why he had left? Then why had he been here? Why the questioning? How did he know I'd be here, at this time? 

"Why didn't you tell me who you were? " I ask him the one question that seems the most intelligent, aware of his hand still on my face, lightly stroking my cheek. 

"I wanted to see if you remembered me. I would have left if you had forgotten." 

"I could never forget you, Heero," I whisper, then look down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze for the first time in our short history together. I must have sounded like a fool to him that day, talking about him to his face and crying over him. But…

"But why the charade?"

"I've been near you for the past year and a half, protecting you, and you never saw me. When you left to come here, I followed. When the earthquake hit, I was unhurt, but I knew you were down there in the rubble. I had to save you and pretending to be your husband was the only way to be close to you, to make sure you were safe." 

"But why?" So much for years in the political forum-I've never sounded so insipid before. Not even as a teenager. He smiles at me again and I'm mesmerized again by the rare sight

"Do you know I once asked myself that same question?" I shake my head, feeling a bit confused now. But what he had told me about his background now made sense-the four brothers were the other pilots and he had been sent down to Earth to complete a mission. Who was tricking whom in this charade?

"Why?" I sound so clever right now. Is my mouth on Repeat? Maybe I hit my head harder than they thought. Should I request another CT Scan?

"Is it a crime to want to be with the woman you love?"

My eyes widen as I stare at him, and for once, I have no witty rejoinders. Not that it's a bad thing, considering my responses so far. I can see myself reflected in his dark blue eyes and I smile tremulously, unsure of what I just heard and afraid to hear him say any other word. 

"Love?"

He leans forward until our foreheads touch. Gazing at me, he runs a thumb over my cheek, catching one of the tears I wasn't aware of shedding, his face tender, eyes shining. I see a new emotion in them, one that I never thought I would see. My breath catches at seeing it, for a moment unbelieving. Then, "Ai Shiteru, Relena. "

I guess my response of falling into his arms was enough, for he was holding me close and kissing me. Heero-Aiden; it didn't matter what his name was. I see out of the corner of my eyes a small teddy bear that falls to the floor as I kiss him back and never let go.


End file.
